


In Tune

by ladylagunitas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A Week of Kagehina, Alternate Universe - Music, Classical Music, Complete, Fluff, KageHina Week, KageHina Week 2018, M/M, Music Nerds, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:02:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylagunitas/pseuds/ladylagunitas
Summary: Hinata's trumpet teacher composed a duet for him and a violinist, which he has to perform in a couple of weeks. Who else would be his duet partner, but the first chair violinist, Kageyama?Fore KageHina Week 2018 Day 6: together/sync





	In Tune

**Author's Note:**

> here's a few thousand words to hold you over until season four, i guess.

“Okay, one-and-two-and-” Hinata took a deep breath, lifting his trumpet on the upbeat before pressing his lips to the mouthpiece. The first note sang through the practice room, centered and pure. It was a clean, perfect attack, and a great start to the practice. The next measures that followed were smooth and bright, and the sound of his music filled the little room. He could feel the music, reverberating through his chest and in the air around him. He loved it, loved this, loved the way his whole body was a part of the experience. 

He glanced up from the music after looking a little ahead, making brief eye contact with his practice partner. It was their first rehearsal together, they were playing a duet written by his trumpet teacher. He hoped it would go well, but was excited to work out the kinks in the piece. The first play-through of a piece always had its bumps.

His eyes landed back on his own music, right where he needed to be, his lips, fingers, air, soul, all still playing in time. The violinist was due to enter in a matter of moments. There was a cue written above his own measures, in small, delicate font. The violin would sneak in, quietly, on the same pitch, and get louder until their melodies drifted apart. His heart began to beat faster, in time with the piece, which was picking up speed and readying itself for the entrance of the violin—

And nothing happened. 

The violinist missed his cue.

Hinata kept playing, intending to cue him in at the next big section, but his air died in his throat when he glanced up at his companion.

He was reclined in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him with his instrument leaning against his chest. The bow was in his hand, but as far away from the violin as it could be without being on the ground. He was fixing HInata with a steady, almost bored gaze. He didn’t even look like he’d been counting.

Letting his note fall flat out of existence, Hinata dropped his horn from his mouth. He set the bell on his knee, his fingers still resting on the pearl caps of the valves. He ran his tongue over his lips, which were warm and soft from playing, then frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching towards the music stand with his free hand. “You come in on beat three of measure—”

“I know where I come in,” he said neutrally. He lifted his bow from where it hung beside him and tapped the music. The pages slapped against the cool metal of the stand as he pointed to his entrance.

Hinata stared at him, uncomprehending. “So why didn’t you?”

He—Kageyama, they’d met over email, when Hinata’s teacher had assigned him the piece— stared right back. “I’ll come in when you make up your mind about the tempo.”

“The tempo?” he echoed, feeling puzzled. He looked slowly from the music to the violinist. “There was nothing wrong with the tempo.” Hinata had already gone over the piece with his teacher a bunch of times, and on his own, both with and without a metronome. And, if he was honest, he’d always had a fine internal rhythm.

Kageyama snorted, then leaned up in his chair. “Right,” he said drily, “And there wasn’t anything wrong with your pitch, either.”

Glancing down to his horn, then back to Kageyama, he asked flatly, “And what’s wrong with my pitch?” He’d tuned before coming to the practice, when he was warming up. There hadn’t been any big changes in temperature, and his tuning slide was still adjusted correctly. He’d actually tuned twice, once when he was practicing, and then moments before Kageyama had entered the room. Unless Kageyama had perfect pitch and could hear the microscopic deviations from the tuned note, there was nothing wrong with his pitch.

Kageyama sighed and stood up. “I’m too busy to teach you the basics. You should find another violin player.”

Dumbfounded, Hinata watched as Kageyama went to his instrument case and began to put his belongings away. “Wait! You can’t leave,” Hinata stood, letting his horn hang by his side. “We didn’t even start. If you want, we can tune together and use a metronome for this first rehearsal.” Not that he thought he needed to do either, but his teacher wanted them to perform it at the brass student’s showcase in a couple of weeks. He couldn’t afford to lose any practice time. Figuring out a time for this rehearsal had been difficult enough, with their conflicting class and practice schedules.

Kageyama looked at him, and it was a thorough look, with his dark eyes scanning Hinata from his feet to his head. It made Hinata want to shy away, but he tightened his grip on his horn and stood his ground. 

“Fine,” he said after a long moment. “But you have to match me and blend with me.”

Hinata fought the urge to roll his eyes. They were supposed to match  _ each other _ . That was what music was about, listening to others. He’d heard enough complaining about trumpet players to have learned that important lesson already. “Fine,” he echoed, dropping back into his chair. In any other situation, he would have argued, but when it came to music, he was willing to sacrifice a little pride.

But he couldn’t just let it go either, so while Kageyama went to go back to his seat, Hinata brought his horn to his lips and leaned to the side. There was a small valve on the slide under his bell, which he opened with his free hand. He blew an obnoxious amount of air through the mouthpiece, enough to make the built-up condensation from his warm up spray all over the floor.

It had the desired effect. Kageyama gave him a disgusted look while he took his own seat again. Satisfied, Hinata grinned and shook out his bell. He could always miff the stuffier musicians with that one.

“Ready?” he asked, once Kageyama was seated. When the violinist nodded, he licked his lips and grinned. “Okay, one-and-two-and-” he lifted and dipped his bell as he breathed, using it the way a conductor would use a baton.

That time, they got through it, more or less. And when they finished, Kageyama’d had plenty to say about Hinata’s musicality, breathing, articulation, and well, everything. It’d been bumpier than anticipated.

“Goddamn  _ string _ players,” Hinata muttered, after they parted ways and he stored his instrument in the group locker on the fourth floor of the music building. “They think they’re  _ so _ talented.”

 

* * *

  
  


Hinata had probably thought he’d had the fourth floor to himself, when he started complaining about Kageyama, but Kageyama had a locker of his own up there. Even though he’d left the practice room before him, he’d doubled-back to drop off his music. Fortunately, the brassy moron hadn’t seen him, because their lockers were around the corner from each other,  _ but still _ .

He was dreading their next rehearsal. The first one had been rough, to say the least. He dreaded it so much that when their next meeting came up, he walked there as slowly as he possibly could. It served to make him a few minutes late, which Hinata was quick to mention.

“Nice of you to show,  _ concertmaster _ ,” Hinata said drily, feeding small drops of oil into his valves. 

Kageyama paused as he clipped his chinrest into place, his back to Hinata. He wrinkled his nose, wondering if the redhead had  _ just _ noticed that they were in the same orchestra. They’d been going to the same rehearsals once a week for two years already. Kageyama’s appointment to first chair, and subsequently concertmaster, was new for that semester. Choosing to ignore him, Kageyama asked, “Are you warm?”

He tried not to be annoyed about Hinata’s obliviousness. Kageyama had been aware of him since the very beginning.

At first, it was just because Hinata was hard to miss, with his bright hair and loud voice. 

And there were only two trumpet players in the entire orchestra, and Hinata was the annoying one.

Or, he used to be. He used to be the one who stood out and played too loud. Kageyama had even heard the clarinet section, which sat in front of the trumpets, complaining about HInata’s bright, brassy notes blasting in their ears. He remembered being a little bit charmed, even when he shouldn’t have been.

Despite the fact that Kageyama had tried to get out of their duet, he thought Hinata had the potential to be a  _ phenomenal _ trumpet player. Somehow,he got around that bright, piercing sound a lot of young trumpet players had. 

His playing was musical and sonorous, and he had a decent ear for pitch and rhythm.  Kageyama tried to get out of it because— well, because he’d been silently crushing on him for more than a year. And when he did that thing, right before he was going to play, where he rolled his lips together then licked them, Kageyama couldn’t quite handle it. There was _no_ way he could focus enough to learn music under those conditions.

“Plenty warm,” Hinata replied, blowing air experimentally through his horn. There was a crackle as his air caught on some condensation, and he expelled it with the spit valve. 

Objectively, Kageyama knew it was just condensation from the warm air and valve oil, but it was still gross. He tried to keep the disgust off of his face as he sat in his chair and adjusted his music stand. 

“Oh,” Hinata said, his tone returning to normal, “I forgot to email you, but there was a change to your part.” He leaned to the side, to reach his case and music folder. Kageyama tried not to look, he really did, but he got a good look at the elegant tilt of his wrist when his horn flashed in the light. Hinata’s hand was relaxed on the horn, like it was an extension of himself, but the smooth tendons of his hands caught Kageyama’s eyes anyway. 

He was also rewarded with a peak of the bare skin when Hinata’s shirt rode up above the waistline of his pants.

“Sorry,” Hinata said, straightening up. “My teacher emailed me the changes a few days ago, but I totally forgot to forward them to you,” he handed Kageyama a new copy of the music, looking thoroughly apologetic. “I don’t think there’s that much different, but you’ll be sightreading.”

Kageyama dragged his eyes back to Hinata’s face and tried to get his brain to function. “That’s alright,” he said, taking the pages. Their hands brushed as he took them, and he felt like he was going to short circuit. Besides the fact that Kageyama had a  _ thing _ for nice hands and Hinata in general, he was a sucker for considerate people. And it seemed that Hinata was pretty thoughtful when it came to him and their music.

He put the new pages on his stand and skimmed over them, looking for the changes, grateful for the distraction. There were some new markings for the bowing and a couple of changed notes, but it all looked manageable enough. When he looked up from the music, he found Hinata staring at him. 

Kageyama couldn’t read his expression. He hummed thoughtfully before tilting his head to look at his own stand. After pushing another burst of warm air through his instrument, he looked at Kageyama, licked his lips, and said, “Ready?”

_ There it is again,  _ Kageyama thought, his throat closing up. For a brief moment, he felt incapable of speaking, and forced himself to drag his eyes away from Hinata’s lips. He lifted his instrument and nodded.

Grinning, Hinata brought his horn up, counted them off, and began to play.

Their piece was sweet and playful, not at all like the stuff Kageyama had been playing in his small groups lately. Where all of his other music was modern, atonal, and complex, this was straightforward and fun. There were alternating lines of jumping melody and long sections of fluid two-part harmonies. It reminded Kageyama of Hinata, a little bit, and it didn’t surprise him to know that it was a composition for him.

He sighed as he listened to him play. It was almost perfect. There were one or two spots where his air couldn’t get him to phrase and he had to take a quick breath. Kageyama didn’t know much about breathing and brass technique, but it seemed more like a composition issue than a playing one. He would have to wait until the brass recital to learn for sure.

His entrance was coming up, though, so he brought his instrument to his shoulder. It was a comforting weight on his body, and he was ready to slip into playing. Hinata always seemed like he was having fun, and Kageyama was eager to join him.

Kageyama put his bow to the strings and when his entrance arrived, he  _ played _ . He matched Hinata, rising to meet his volume or slipping into near-nothingness when Hinata had the lead. He mimicked Hinata’s pacing during the tempo changes and found himself breathing when Hinata came up for air. Instead of trying to get out of the duet, he gave into it.

The music felt good, and in the echoes of the last note, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Kageyama found it hard to look away, especially from Hinata’s lips. After playing, his mouth was full, soft, pink— and far too tempting.

 

* * *

  
  


“Ah! That one was so good!” Hinata exclaimed. Their rehearsals had been going so well that Hinata had been looking forward to each one. It was their last rehearsal before the recital, and the piece was almost ready.

And after the first rocky rehearsal, they’d fallen into an easy companionship. Hinata found Kageyama incredibly easy to talk to. They talked about music, their instruments, the orchestra, and their life outside of music. He learned that Kageyama especially enjoyed talking about the orchestra’s players. Who could do what, who was terrible, who was good, who could be better, and what the conductor would pick next.

“It was good,” Kageyama agreed, checking the time on his phone, “But we went way over, I have to get going.”

“Oh, no, how bad is it?” Hinata asked, his heart dropping. On one hand, he just wanted to keep playing. On the other, he would seriously be in trouble if he was late for class again.

“Twenty minutes,” Kageyama said, standing to get his case. 

Groaning, Hinata dragged his case over and twisted the mouthpiece off of his horn. “Sorry,” he said, gently fitting the trumpet into its velvet silhouette. “After last week I said we wouldn’t go late again, but here we are.” He put the mouthpiece away, clasped his case shut, and began to put his music away. The pages were worse for wear, after more than a month of steady practicing.

“It’s okay,” Kageyama glanced at him from over his shoulder and gave him a small grin. “I figured we’d go late, so I pushed back my study group.”

Hinata’s heart did a little flutter. When Kageyama gave him one of those looks— the ones that seemed so rare and private and very much just for him— he couldn’t help it. He’d always been a sucker for other musicians. Swallowing, he dropped his eyes to his case and busied his hands with putting away his music. “Th-that was a good idea.”

When he finished putting his music away, he looked up to watch the tail end of a puzzled look from Kageyama.

“What?” he asked without thinking.

Kageyama studied him before saying, “Nothing. Are you ready to go?” he picked up his instrument case and went to the door. He waited there, his case bumping his thigh.

Hinata scrambled to gather up his belongings. His backpack, which was crammed with his class materials, he flung over one shoulder. In his hands, he carried the case and his music binder. He would run straight to class, once his trumpet was put away, but he would still be a few minutes late. “Okay, yeah, ready,” he said when his hands were full. He made a point to shoulder past Kageyama, bumping into him even though he held the door open.

“You better watch it,” he murmured as Hinata passed.. The low, warm air of his words brushed over Hinata’s cheek, making his heart skip a beat.

_ Fuck _ , he thought to himself, scurrying ahead to hide the blush staining his cheeks.  _ One more week, and then we’ll perform and it’ll all be over. _ He pursed his lips, absently rolling them because they were tired and soft from playing.

Then he remembered that he would see Kageyama at orchestra for the rest of the semester, and then probably for the rest of their shared time at college. Groaning, he slammed the button for the elevator a little too hard. 

Kageyama came to stand beside him, liting a brow at him questioningly. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Hinata, as if it were completely natural to wait so close together.

Hinata felt like he was going to combust. Kageyama was tall, objectively  _ incredibly _ handsome, and close enough for him to grab if he wanted. Discreetly, Hinata shifted his instrument case from one hand to the other, putting it between them. If the hand closest to Kageyama was occupied, he couldn’t so something as stupid trying to hold his hand or anything. It was so stupid. If Kageyama had just kept being a jerk, Hinata never would have noticed how good looking or talented he was.

“We haven’t talked about what we’re wearing, yet,” Kageyama said as the elevator doors slid open.

Hinata looked down at himself, then back to Kageyama questioningly.

The violinist’s eyes widened a fraction, then he laughed. “Not right  _ now _ , dumbass. For the recital,” he chuckled as they stepped inside. He pressed the button to the fourth floor and leaned against the wall, looking at Hinata as if he couldn’t believe him. Then he asked, “God, are all brass players this dumb?”

“Are all string players this  _ condescending?”  _ Hinata grumbled, the blush returning to his cheeks. “I was just going to wear black. No jacket or anything.”

“Alright,” he replied, his voice still light with amusement. “All black.”

Hinata frowned, staring hard at the floor numbers on the elevator. He figured that Kageyama probably looked amazing in black. 

And on the day of the recital, he found that he was right.

It didn’t help that Kageyama had fixed his hair so that it layed effortlessly against his brow, or that he’d picked the most perfectly tailored black shirt in the world. He looked every bit the professional musician, ready to go on stage and provide  _ perfection _ to the audience. The second Hinata saw him backstage, he knew the image would haunt him for a long time after.

It was quiet in the green room, which wasn’t green, but a room separate from the stage for the performers to get ready. They were alone. There were other little groups and soloists scheduled to go on before them, but the other performers were all watching from the audience. 

Kageyama tuned, leaning around his instrument as he adjusted the tuning pegs according to his tuner. He arched to one side, bent elegantly over the violin, and Hinata thought he looked like a work of art. 

_ How _ was he supposed to perform, now that he’d realized how stunningly  _ attractive _ his partner was? This was definitely not what he signed up for, and definitely not what he’d expected. But now, moments before they were to take the stage together, he was just nervously fiddling with his horn, emptying and re-emptying the spit valve.

“Relax,” Kageyama said from across the room, without looking up. He adjusted one of the pegs, making the pitch of one string higher, then moved onto the next. 

“Easier said than done,” he mumbled. “I’ve never done this before! I have no idea if I’ll even be able to play once I’m out there.” For all he knew, he could lose his nerve and wouldn’t be able to make a peep. His stomach definitely felt uncertain, so how was he supposed to go out there and be perfect?

Kageyama lowered his bow and his instrument, then turned to face Hinata. “Hey, we’re out there together. I’ll back you up.” His face was serious, his voice sure.

“I just—”

Shaking his head, Kageyama waved him off. “Look, the performance, it really doesn’t matter,” he gave Hinata a warning look when he went to protest, then said, “You’ve already had some amazing experiences with this music. You’ve had the good and bad moments already. You’ve missed notes and you’ve nailed them. What’s so different about getting on stage with it? All you’re doing is sharing the good you’ve had with it. You know this piece, inside and out, and you’re going to show them how much fun it can be, to play it.”

Hinata blinked at him, stunned by the sudden showing of support. Kageyama was kind of quiet and awkward at first, but once they’d gotten close, it seemed like he always knew what to say. Swallowing, Hinata squared his shoulders and nodded. “ _ We’ve _ had some amazing moments with it,” he corrected.

Kageyama stared at him, then blinked and smiled. “Yeah, we have,” he murmured. His eyes were warm and his expression fond as he looked at Hinata. And for a second, Hinata thought about dragging him out of the room, across campus, and back to his room. 

Then, the staff person was knocking on the door. It was time to go on stage.

So they went together, Kageyama leading, Hinata close behind. They entered from the side of the stage, which was made of rich cherry colored wood. In the center of it, there were two stands side by side. The crowd, modestly sized and made up mostly of other music students, clapped and cheered as they took their places. Hinata’s heart threatened to beat right out of his chest, but when he got to his stand, he met Kageyama’s gaze and felt confidence replace his worries.

They could do it, so he could do it. They’d done it before, countless times, and they were going to do it again, together.

Hinata looked met his eyes and gave him a sure, silent nod. Kageyama smiled as Hinata brought his trumpet to his lips. He pursed them, rolled them, and nodded again. The first measures, before Kageyama’s entrance, he had memorized. He’d played them so many times he could play them in his sleep. So he kept his eyes on Kageyama, and when he took a breath, he saw Kageyama breathe in sync.

The room was quiet, waiting for him to begin.

He let the first notes sound, and they were centered, even, and sure. He thought about every part of the note, from the beginning to the end of each. With each passing beat, he grew more comfortable, getting lost in the feeling of the music and in Kageyama’s steady gaze.

His music sang across the stage and bounced away from him, towards the crowd. He didn’t bother looking at them. The most important person was beside him.

Then those delicate little cues appeared above his own notes, and he got ready. When Kageyama entered with him, that’s when it became fun. That’s when it became  _ music _ , instead of just notes _. _

And when Kageyama finally put the bow to the strings, it all came together, even better than it had in rehearsal. They were so perfectly matched, their sounds blended until it was difficult to tell where the strings ended and the brass began. Every so often, their eyes would meet over their music, and Hinata would feel it— the joy of meeting another musician in the middle of something beautiful.

At the end, after they’d gone through every iteration, every passed melody, every perfect harmony, they dropped their instruments. The last chord echoed around them, kept close by the stage, by their proximity, by the silence of the audience.

Then they smiled at each other, and the crowd began to enthusiastically clap. They were led off stage by the staffer, grinning at each other like morons the entire way back.

In the green room, Hinata held his hand up for a high five. “It was perfect!” he exclaimed, feeling heady with accomplishment. Sure, there were a few missed notes or dissonant moments, like in any performance, but it was hardly noticeable. It’d felt so natural, to play on stage together, and judging from the goofy grin on Kageyama’s face, he felt the same way.

He transferred his bow to the hand that held the violin, and met Hinata’s high five up in the air. “Perfect,” he echoed, and his hand lingered there.

Hinata’s breath stilled in his throat, and he gave in to the temptation, the high of their completely performance giving him the confidence to lace their fingers together, finally. Kageyama’s eyes widened, and there must have been something about Hinata’s expression, because his gaze grew soft and sweet.

Then, Hinata found himself being drawn in, closer, their instruments held awkwardly out of the way, and was kissed so deeply it made his head spin. He gave into it, melting into Kageyama. His lips were exhausted and pliant, and he opened them to Kageyama more than willingly.

“Wow,” Kageyama murmured, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Hinata’s.

“ _ Wow _ is right,” Hinata chimed, feeling shaky. He brought his free hand to Kageyama’s, which had somehow come up to cup his cheek.

“Do  _ all _ brass players have lips this soft?” He asked quietly, stealing another gentle kiss before Hinata could answer.

“Just mine,” he said, unthinkingly, chasing him back.

“I thought so,” Kageyama said, before tilting his head and stealing the rest of Hinata’s breath away.

Hinata could feel Kageyama’s breathing, could feel their heartbeats together.  _ Way better than music. _


End file.
